here.”
Tibald shrugged, chewed his Big Red. “Could be the reason they never finished up those big, fine ideas.”
“Do you know what happened on the third floor?”
“Nope. Don’t know of anyone who does. Just know a few who wouldn’t go up there, no matter what you paid them. Any plasterwork needs doing on the third floor, you give my sister, Lucy, a call first.”
They both turned at the sound of a car coming down the drive. “That’s Miss Lena’s car, and Miss Odette with her.” Tibald’s grin spread as the ancient MG stopped beside his truck.
“Afternoon, ladies.” Tibald walked to the passenger’s side to open the door for Odette. “Where y’at?”
“Oh, fine and well, Tibald. How’s that family of yours?”
“Nothing to complain about.”
Lena climbed out as Declan opened the door. Her jeans were intriguingly snug, worn with a shirt the color of polished turquoise. “My grandmama thought it was time to pay a call.” She scanned the drive, noted the number of pickups. “What did you do, cher ? Hire yourself an army?”
“Just a battalion.” She smelled of jasmine, he thought. She smelled of night. He had to concentrate on basic manners or swallow his gum. “Can I give you a tour?”
“Mmm. We’ll get to it. Tibald, you say hey to Mazie for me, won’t you?”
“I will. Gotta be on my way. I’ll get that bid to you, Mr. Fitzgerald.”
“Declan. I’ll be looking for it. Miss Odette.” Declan took her hand as Tibald climbed into his truck. She wore a cotton dress the color of ripe squash, and a dark green sweater against the mid-winter chill. Today’s socks matched it.
She smelled of lavender and jingled with her chains and bracelets. Everything about her relaxed him. “Welcome to Manet Hall. Such as it is.”
Odette winked at Lena when Declan kissed her hand. “We’ll take a look at it when we’ve finished out here. Heard you hired Big Frank and Little Frankie,” she said, nodding toward their pickup. “How’re they working out for you?”
“They seem to be doing the job. I don’t know how.” He studied the patchy front gardens with his thumbs hooked through his belt loops. “I can’t catch them actually doing anything, but I blink and a couple truckloads of underbrushare gone. Would you like to walk around the grounds?”
“I would. Lena honey, get those spirit bottles out of the trunk. We’ll hang them on these live oaks to start.”
“Spirit bottles?”
“To keep the evil spirits away.” Lena began lifting bottles half filled with water from her trunk.
“Should I be worried about evil spirits?” Declan asked.
“An ounce of prevention.” And taking two, Odette moved off toward the trees.
“Spirit bottles,” Declan reported, lifting one. He’d seen them hanging outside the shotgun house. “Just how do they work?”
“It’s an old voodoo trick,” Lena told him. “The clanking sound they make scares the evil spirits away.”
Testing, he bumped two together. It sounded pleasant enough, he thought, and not particularly scary. “You believe in voodoo?”
“I believe in that ounce of prevention.” She strolled off, small and curvy, to join her grandmother.
Voodoo or old glass bottles, he liked the way they looked hanging from his trees. And when he tapped two together again, he liked the sound they made.
It took nearly an hour to wind their way around the house and into it as there had to be conversations with the landscapers, inquiries about their family, speculation on the weather, discussion of the garden.
When he finally got them into the kitchen, Odette fisted her hands on her hips and nodded. “That’s a good color, like a nicely baked pastry crust. Most men, they don’t know anything but white. Brings out these good pine floors.”
“I should have the cabinets ready to install next week.” He gestured toward the dining room. “I’m using pine there, too. With glass fronts.”
Lips pursed, Odette walked in, ran her hand
Tibald shrugged, chewed his Big Red. “Could be the reason they never finished up those big, fine ideas.”
“Do you know what happened on the third floor?”
“Nope. Don’t know of anyone who does. Just know a few who wouldn’t go up there, no matter what you paid them. Any plasterwork needs doing on the third floor, you give my sister, Lucy, a call first.”
They both turned at the sound of a car coming down the drive. “That’s Miss Lena’s car, and Miss Odette with her.” Tibald’s grin spread as the ancient MG stopped beside his truck.
“Afternoon, ladies.” Tibald walked to the passenger’s side to open the door for Odette. “Where y’at?”
“Oh, fine and well, Tibald. How’s that family of yours?”
“Nothing to complain about.”
Lena climbed out as Declan opened the door. Her jeans were intriguingly snug, worn with a shirt the color of polished turquoise. “My grandmama thought it was time to pay a call.” She scanned the drive, noted the number of pickups. “What did you do, cher ? Hire yourself an army?”
“Just a battalion.” She smelled of jasmine, he thought. She smelled of night. He had to concentrate on basic manners or swallow his gum. “Can I give you a tour?”
“Mmm. We’ll get to it. Tibald, you say hey to Mazie for me, won’t you?”
“I will. Gotta be on my way. I’ll get that bid to you, Mr. Fitzgerald.”
“Declan. I’ll be looking for it. Miss Odette.” Declan took her hand as Tibald climbed into his truck. She wore a cotton dress the color of ripe squash, and a dark green sweater against the mid-winter chill. Today’s socks matched it.
She smelled of lavender and jingled with her chains and bracelets. Everything about her relaxed him. “Welcome to Manet Hall. Such as it is.”
Odette winked at Lena when Declan kissed her hand. “We’ll take a look at it when we’ve finished out here. Heard you hired Big Frank and Little Frankie,” she said, nodding toward their pickup. “How’re they working out for you?”
“They seem to be doing the job. I don’t know how.” He studied the patchy front gardens with his thumbs hooked through his belt loops. “I can’t catch them actually doing anything, but I blink and a couple truckloads of underbrushare gone. Would you like to walk around the grounds?”
“I would. Lena honey, get those spirit bottles out of the trunk. We’ll hang them on these live oaks to start.”
“Spirit bottles?”
“To keep the evil spirits away.” Lena began lifting bottles half filled with water from her trunk.
“Should I be worried about evil spirits?” Declan asked.
“An ounce of prevention.” And taking two, Odette moved off toward the trees.
“Spirit bottles,” Declan reported, lifting one. He’d seen them hanging outside the shotgun house. “Just how do they work?”
“It’s an old voodoo trick,” Lena told him. “The clanking sound they make scares the evil spirits away.”
Testing, he bumped two together. It sounded pleasant enough, he thought, and not particularly scary. “You believe in voodoo?”
“I believe in that ounce of prevention.” She strolled off, small and curvy, to join her grandmother.
Voodoo or old glass bottles, he liked the way they looked hanging from his trees. And when he tapped two together again, he liked the sound they made.
It took nearly an hour to wind their way around the house and into it as there had to be conversations with the landscapers, inquiries about their family, speculation on the weather, discussion of the garden.
When he finally got them into the kitchen, Odette fisted her hands on her hips and nodded. “That’s a good color, like a nicely baked pastry crust. Most men, they don’t know anything but white. Brings out these good pine floors.”
“I should have the cabinets ready to install next week.” He gestured toward the dining room. “I’m using pine there, too. With glass fronts.”
Lips pursed, Odette walked in, ran her hand
Similar Books
